Blood, Magic, and strawberry lollipops
by Storm Notorious
Summary: Third year is a turbulent one. Dementors are at Hogwarts, Sirius black is on the loose, there's a werewolf as a teacher, and a vampire is attending as a student.
1. Chapter 1

_Azkaban, July 1993_

Dumbledore appeared with a slight pop, startling the half-asleep ministry wizard who was waiting for him. "I am here to see Minister Fudge." His voice was perfectly level, as if he was commenting on the weather, rather than waiting outside of one of the most terrifying wizard prisons in the world. The wizard jumped to his feet. "Yes sir! Right this way, sir." Dumbledore followed him to Fudge, even though he could navigate through the place blindfolded. He silently flicked his wand, conjuring a silver phoenix that flew around them both. They reached a corridor that was thankfully, dementor-free. Fudge was talking to another wizard, running his hands through his hair frantically. He turned around, seeing Dumbledore. "Albus, thank goodness you're here, I didn't know who else to call." Dumbledore walked forward cautiously. "I received your owl, Cornelius. What's this all about?" Fudge gestured to his right. "Take a look." Inside the cell was a boy with long matted hair, dressed in rags. A child in Azkaban? He started to notice other details. The paleness of his skin, the way he was holding his mouth slightly open, as if something was preventing him from fully closing it…"A child vampire." Dumbledore turned to face Fudge and the man he now assumed to be a vampire hunter. "Found him in a forest in Ireland. He was completely feral, he tore the animals he fed on to shreds. So I Stunned him, and brought him here." "Thank you." Dumbledore turned to Fudge. "Do you have any way of identifying him?" Fudge shook his head. "No idea. We'll have to somehow tame him. That's where you come in. I was hoping you knew some way of…reaching him?" Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Hmmm….perhaps. I'll need blood. Lots of it."

Dumbledore entered the cell, wand at the ready. "_Enervate_." The vampires' eyes snapped open. He instantly flitted to the wall, holding onto it with a hiss aimed at him. "Calm down. I will not hurt you." He held out a blood bag. "Rat's blood. You must be hungry." He looked towards the blood. "No." His voice was hoarse from disuse. "Excuse me?" "Human. Want." Dumbledore shook his head. "No. If you cooperate, I might be able to get you deer blood." The blood bag exploded in Dumbledores' hand. He recoiled, cleaning himself off with a wandless silent cleaning charm. "Human." Dumbledore frowned. "Was that you?" The vampire nodded. "Want human. Now." "I will get you some, if you answer my questions." He bared his teeth. "Fine." Dumbledore produced a quill and parchment, tapping the quill with his wand. "What is your name?" He furrowed his brow, as if trying to remember. "Mortlaíocht." Dumbledore smiled slightly. The Irish name for mortality. Very well. The quill scratched down the information. "And your last name?" "What's your name?" That was the first complete sentence Mortlaíocht had said. Dumbledore nodded. "I guess it is only fair. My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts." There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, followed by a hint of fear. "Even among vampires, you are well known." Dumbledore wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he returned to the issue at hand. "Last name, please." "Promise you won't kill me?" He frowned. "Now why would I do that? I promise." Mortlaíocht fiddled around with the edge of his frayed shirt. "Don't expect you to live up to that, but very well. My name is Mortlaíocht William Le Fay."

" Le Fay. As in 'The Noble and Most Ancient House of'. You can't be serious." Dumbledore sighed. "I wish so, but he was telling the truth." They were currently in Fudge's office at the ministry, with a dozen anti-eavesdropping scattered about. "Morgana had a son named Mordred, who moved to Ireland once he defeated. It is possible, unlikely as it seems." Fudge rubbed his temples. "The Daily Prophet would have a field day with this if they found out. What should we do? Deport him?" "And leave a vampire fledging to attack whoever he encounters? I'll take care of him." Fudge fidgeted nervously. "Are you sure that's a good idea Albus? He is a descendent of Morgana, after all…" Dumbledore chuckled humorlessly. "He is an innocent. And a wizard, who should be granted an education. He shall go to Hogwarts." Fudge rose up. "Now wait a second. A _vampire _at Hogwarts? I'd be thrown out of office for allowing that to happen." He shrugged. "Well, there is an abundance of deer in the Forbidden Forest that should be fine. And surely a vampire is less dangerous to wizards then a werewolf?" Fudge held up a hand. "Okay fine, but what about the sun? Someone's going to notice if he starts burning." "I have that covered. Severus Snape can brew a potion that lessens the effects. We can claim he has porphyria." Fudge sighed. "Fine then. It's on your head if this fails." "I wouldn't expect anything else."

Three days later, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban.

Mortlaíocht was bored. He had been cooped up in his room at the inn for weeks, because it was scorching outside. Stupid sunlight. Sure, he could go outside when the sun went down, but there wasn't exactly a lot to do. There was a knock on the door. "Enter freely, and of your own free will." Dumbledore entered, carrying the rest of his supplies. "I see you've been reading the book I gave you." He looked at the old, battered copy of Dracula. "It doesn't portray vampires correctly. We can't turn into animals, or elemental dust, whatever that is, and we can't just go waltzing around in sunlight." He placed the supplies on the rickety desk. "I met Bram Stoker. He was not a very good wizard." He tossed Mortlaíocht a small bottle. He sniffed it. "Rats' blood? This tastes like hot garbage." Still, he downed it in one gulp. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, and apparate you to Hogwarts, where you'll meet the staff and be sorted before the rest of the school. Any questions?" "Can I go outside?" Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no. You'll burn very quickly." Mortlaíocht got up and tossed the bottle. "Fine. Can I at least go downstairs? I'll stay out of the sunlight." Dumbledore thought about it for a few minutes. "Alright. Take your wand and a few blood lollipops." Mortlaíocht flitted over to his wand- elder, eleven and a half inches, dragon heartstring, unyielding- and grabbed a few lollipops, and headed for the door.

The bar around this time was empty, with a few people here and there. Most of them greeted Dumbledore, or recognized him, but ignored Mortlaíocht. He sat down at a table in a corner, where he could observe the entire room. "I expect you in your room before sunrise." "Togha." He put a lollipop in his mouth, playing around with his wand. Dumbledore apparated with a slight pop. From across the room, he heard someone at the bar exclaim, "Blimey, was that Dumbledore over there?" "Seems like it. He was with that kid in the corner." "Must be a new Hogwarts student." "A bit old to be a first-year, don't you think?" "Transfer student, possibly?" "Whatever. Let's go introduce ourselves." Mortlaíocht looked up as a black haired boy, a ginger, and a brown haired girl approached him. The red haired one spoke first. "Why were you with Dumbledore?" "We're secretly wizarding superheroes, who go after people who ask questions bluntly." He returned to his book, smiling to himself. "Ron! You just can't go around asking people like that." The brown haired girl smiled. "I'm sorry about that. This is Ron, I'm Hermione, and that's Harry," she said, gesturing to the black haired boy. He didn't really care about them, but Hermione looked like a potential food source. He gave her the best genuine smile he had. "Hello, Hermione. I'm Mortlaíocht. You're very pretty." He watched as she turned red, and her friends stood there awkwardly. "It's nice getting to know you guys, but I have to go." He headed for the stairs, listening in on them. "He seemed nice." "You just like him because he said you were pretty." "Do not!" Mortlaíocht grinned as he heard the conversation. _Step one complete._


	2. Chapter 2

The instant Dumbledore apparated into his room half an hour before sunrise, Mortlaíocht opened his eyes. "Dumbledore. Wasn't expecting you until dawn." "I thought you might want to see what Hogwarts looks like before the sun comes up. Are you ready?" He slid off the bed, floating to a standing position. "I've had nothing to do since those three fans of yours went to bed. No, my stuff is all over the place." Dumbledore glanced at him. "Behaviour like that will not be received at Hogwarts." Mortlaíocht sighed. "I'm sorry." He crawled under the bed, searching for the bag of grave dirt. "Y'know, I was raised to despise you and everything you hold dear. If my father knew about this, he'd have a heart attack. That is, if his throat wasn't ripped out by a bloodthirsty vampire." He crawled back out, holding a small pouch. "There." Dumbledore tapped the pile of luggage with his wand and it vanished. Hopefully to Hogwarts. "You're remarkably calm for someone who confessed to committing patricide." He jumped back up. "What? No, that was my sire, may he rest in pieces." Mortlaíocht took Dumbledore's arm. "Are we going? I don't feel like bursting into flames."

Mortlaíocht staggered slightly, a look of distaste on his face. "I _hate_ that. Never got used to it." He looked around. They were standing on the steps of a huge castle, which was probably the school. There was a large forest, where he heard the sounds of hooves, the chirping of birds, and the howls of wolves. "I take it that's the Forbidden Forest?" "Yes. But to you, it's your blood source. You can hunt there, but I would advise against feeding on centaurs or unicorns." "Unicorns are too fast, and centaurs tend to travel in herds." He glanced at the brightening skyline. "Let's go inside now." Mortlaíocht pushed open the doors and strolled in. There were about a dozen house elves around the Great Hall, lighting the hundreds of floating candles or polishing just about everything in sight. "You employ house-elves?" "They wanted to work, so they came here." An elf came running up to Dumbledore. "I have your package, mister Dumbledore!" "Thank you, Hoppy." Dumbledore handed a goblet filled with blood over to him. "Deer blood. It should keep you sated for now. Hoppy, please take his things to the bed in the third year dormitory." Mortlaíocht drained the goblet in one sip. "And what, am I supposed to do for half a day?" Dumbledore walked off. "Go study your school books."

Mortlaíocht looked outside. The sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon. _Finally. _He had read _Dracula_ three times. It wasn't so bad, aside from the portrayal of vampires. He looked over at Dumbledore, who was writing something that looked like a letter. "Can I go now?" He continued writing for a few seconds then set the quill aside. "The teachers are downstairs, and the pupils shall be here soon." He took the Sorting Hat off the wall. "You should be Sorted soon." Mortlaíocht took the hat and placed it on his head. He heard the Hat could talk, but how? He jumped as he heard a voice inside his head. "_Well well well, this is interesting. Half-giants, werewolves, and now, a vampire. All we need are a couple of zombies and a half-veela. But I digress. Now where should I sort you?" _Seriously? A sentient talking hat? That must've been boring. _"It is, but I can't complain. Now…quite a sharp tongue you've got there. Ravenclaw might be good for you. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, hmm?" _The Hat was going through his memories? _Tell Dumbledore anything about this and I find a way to make you feel pain. _He found out what a telepathic chuckle sounded like. _"I wouldn't do that. Sorting is a private experience. Nobody will ever know. Now, you showed some loyalty to your father….but who doesn't? Hmm…that's interesting." What? "You're related to Morgana Le Fay. I sorted Merlin, you know. H was quite the Slytherin. Unlike you. You're more for facing a problem head on. Though you have no shortage of cunning, oh no. The best house for you would be…_GRYFFINDOR!"

Mortlaíocht took off the hat to a round of applause by the headmasters. Dumbledore placed the Hat back in place. "Congratulations, Mortlaíocht." Dumbledore was smiling. "You've been placed in Gryffindor, my own house. The password is 'Fortuna Major'. I have to admit that was a surprise." He shrugged and walked over to the door. "Where else?" He opened the door for the Headmaster. "I expected Ravenclaw, or maybe Slytherin." They went down the winding staircase and past the gargoyle that stepped aside. "The Sorting Hat said the same thing, but he, I mean it, said that I was more for facing my problems head-on." They reached the staircases, where he could see all the way to the bottom floor. Mortlaíocht looked at Dumbledore and grinned.

"See ya."

He jumped over the edge, dodging and twisting to avoid staircases. He approached the ground floor, and gently touched down, the wind settling. _Vampiric abilities. Is there anything they can't do? _Dumbledore appeared beside him, out of breath slightly. "Interesting. Do try to avoid showing off your gifts. It may unsettle them." Mortlaíocht showed his canines in a predatory grin. There were around a dozen or so people who he assumed to be the staff. They all had different reations to him entering. Some jumped a little, others paled, and some did nothing but give off the scent of fear. "The table for Gryffindor is over there," He said, gesturing to a table on the far side of the Hall. Mortlaíocht walked forward, a slight hop in his step. He started skipping….and _jumped_ over the table, flipping smoothly into the seat at the table. "Whoops," He called out to the Staff table, "Didn't mean to do that." Dumbledore had a slight smile on his face. The other teachers, however, were more wary. He heard the sounds of the students approaching, so he moved his legs out from under the table to face the people coming in. Hundreds of chattering, laughing students piled into the Great Hall, dividing into four different groups. The Gryffindor group paused a few feet away, wondering what the stranger was doing there. Mortlaíocht raised an eyebrow.

"Just going to stand there awkwardly?"

The Gryffindors all sat down. They continued on chatting, some giving him suspicious looks. "Who're you?" Mortlaíocht turned to see the redheaded boy he met in the Leaky Cauldron sitting on his left. His friends were absent. Or were in different houses. "I'm a student. My name's Mortlaíocht. Who are you?" "Ron, Ron Weasley." He had heard of the Weasleys. They were dirt poor, had more children than they could afford, and were the biggest blood-traitors in Britain. "Pleasure to meet you. Where's your friends?" He watched as a line of terrified first-years followed a tiny professor who by the looks of it, had goblin blood. The Sorting Hat was pulled out, and it began to sing.

He clapped politely as the song ended. So that was how things went. "Why are you starting in third year?" Ron was nosy. "Because the circumstances that enabled my previous education were altered." Ron stared. "Uh…what?" "My dad was killed." "Oh, sorry mate." Someone shushed us as "Greengrass, Astoria!" became a Slytherin. It ended with "Vane, Romilda!" becoming a Gryffindor. Mortlaíocht nudged Ron. "I think I've found your friends." Harry and Hermione had just arrived in the Great Hall, trying to quietly sneak over to the table. People started whispering over at the other tables. Apparently, he collapsed from the effects of a Dementor attack. Some vampires believed the wraith-like beings to be kin, as they were both creatures of the night, and they both couldn't affect each other anymore then both of them could feed off their own kind. What they were doing on the train, he had no idea. They reached the table, Hermione sitting on his left and Harry being on Ron's right.

"I was beginning to wonder where pretty girls at Hogwarts wander off to during Sortings." Hermione turned slightly red. Harry looked over at him. "You're that boy from the Leaky Cauldron." "And you're Harry Potter," Mortlaíocht countered. "But I don't see how either of those matter. Now quiet, Dumbledore's talking." The moment Dumbledore stood up, all chatter stopped. _Clearly he's respected._ "Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it's best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast." Perhaps this was about the dementors. He cleared his throat. "As you are all aware after the search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business after the criminal Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

So that's why they were here. Mortlaíocht remembered Sirius. He was in the cell next to him. Dumbledore continued. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it clear that nobody is to leave the grounds without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises-or even Invisibility Cloaks," Mortlaíocht frowned. Invisibility Cloaks were impossible to get. Why would he mention it? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Harry share a look. So Harry had an invisibility Cloak? Must've cost him a fortune. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors." He paused and looked around the room. No one spoke.

"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers this year. First is Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was little applause. Profssor Lupin looked rather ill. He was wearing a shabby set of robes, and his hair had gray strands, though he looked rather young. "As to our second new appointment, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties." The Gryffindor table clapped rather hard. Hagrid was obviously the half-giant the Hat mentioned in passing. He looked down at his hands, his face rather red. As the applause died down, Dumbledore spoke again. "Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

The table was suddenly filled with foods of all shapes and sizes. Everyone dug in, except Mortlaíocht. As a vampire, he couldn't eat many foods, except those high in sugar. Looks like he'd have to wait for dessert. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were eating rather quickly. "The dormitories aren't going anywhere, you know." Ron gulped down a mouth of roast beef. "I don't see you eating." "Already ate." "How do you know Dumbledore?" He glanced at Hermione. "What makes you think that? For all you know, he could've just been escorting me to Diagon Alley." "So you're Muggleborn then?" "Perhaps. Or I could be a half-blood." When most of the main dishes were eaten, the desserts appeared. _Finally. _Mortlaíocht took the pastries, piling them on his plate. The Trio stared. "Bit of a sweet tooth?" asked Ron. _More like a sweet fang. _"Low blood sugar." He ate three jelly-filled donuts before the students were dismissed. The Trio jumped up and immediately ran over to Hagrid. Mortlaíocht listened in on the conversation as he walked out of the Great Hall. "Congratulations, Hagrid!" "All down ter you three. Can' believe it... great man, Dumbledore... came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough... It's what I always wanted." The conversation ended with a sneeze that sounded like a foghorn. He managed to push his way to the front of the crowd that was waiting for the prefect-or Head Boy, he didn't really care. The Fat Lady looked at him. "Password?" Dumbledore had told him when he was Sorted. "Fortuna Major." "Precisely." The portrait swung open, revealing the entrance. He went up the stairs that all the boys were going up, stopping at the door labelled for third-years. He tuckedthe grave dirt under the mattress, and went right to sleep.

**A/N: You know, I'd love a review once in a while.**


	3. Chapter 3

Mortlaíocht opened his eyes. It was about midnight, and all his roommates were finally asleep. He quickly changed into his robes, with a black cloak to hide him from anyone who should be up and gazing out a window. He closed the door silently, carefully going down the steps. The fire in the common room was starting to die down. He crawled out of the portrait hole. Thankfully, the Fat Lady was asleep. He jumped off the side of the staircase, landing without a sound. He wasn't afraid of encountering any teachers, he could go where he pleased. And right now he wanted to go to the Forbidden Forest. One quick _Alohomora_ and _Colloportus _and he was in the forest. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He could smell the blood of centaurs (he wasn't in the mood to start a war with them), rats (they tasted like hot garbage), deer (hardly better), and wolves. They would have to do. He stalked their trail through the forest, coming to a clearing. The wolves were resting in the middle. Usually they wouldn't all sleep at the same time, but there was nothing in the forest that hunted them. _Until now._ Mortlaíocht approached slowly, careful to approach in a way that the wind would blow their scent to him. There were three young wolves, two adults, and an old battle-scarred one. Mortlaíocht would have preferred an older one, but even he knew basic biology. He gently picked up one of the cubs, and flitted to the edge of the forest. The cub was awake now, squirming and uselessly biting him to break free. Mortlaíocht found it irritating, so he snapped its neck. He bit down on its neck, draining its blood. He flung it aside after he had his fill. Looking up, he noted that the horizon was beginning to lighten. He got rid of the blood with a quick Cleaning Charm. He leaped up to the window of his dorm, sliding inside. He quickly changed again and fell into bed.

Mortlaíocht bolted awake, flitting to the opposite side of the room away from the pain. It took a moment for him to realize what was going on. Sunlight from the window was slowly creeping up the side of the bed. _Oh right. _He forgot to close it. He looked cautiously at his roommates. None of them were awoken, though Ron's rat squeaked irritably. There was a potion by his bedside. He skirted around the edges and took the potion. There was a note.

_Mortlaíocht,_

_This is the potion for your condition. It should lessen the effects, but you can still get severe scarring and burning in strong sunlight. Professor Snape shall brew it for you for each day until you can brew it yourself._

_Best regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore. _

The potion looked like liquid sunlight. Mortlaíocht wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but figured the potion couldn't hurt him. He uncorked it and hesitated for a moment.

"Bottoms up, I guess." Mortlaíocht downed it, wincing at the odd taste. It tasted metallic. He put a hand in the sunlight. Nothing but a slight discomfort. Perfect. As the sun was coming up, he decided to change and go to the Great Hall. Since he already fed the previous night, he entertained himself by flipping through his textbooks. A roar of laughter was heard from the Slytherin table as Harry and his friends entered the hall. "Potter! The Dementors are coming, Potter!" Mortlaíocht glanced up briefly. "Still getting trouble from the snakes?" Harry sat down heavily. "Yeah, Malfoy seems to be thriving on that story." A red-headed boy who was probably related to Ron passed them the schedules. "Third year timetables." He took his without thanking him and looked it over. He had Arithmancy first thing in the morning, at nine o clock on the seventh floor. "What do you guys have?" Ron and Harry answered simultaneously. "Divination." "I have Arithmancy." He looked over at Hermione was silent and unresponsive. I love you. So he leaned over, and plucked her sheet out of her hands. "Hey!" He scanned the sheet. "You have three different subjects at the same time. Do you have doppelgangers or something?" She tried grabbing the sheet, but Mortlaíocht passed it to Ron. "Blimey, you're right. Nine o' clock, Divination. Nine o' clock, Muggle Studies. And guess what time Arithmancy is at? Nine o' clock. You're smart Hermione, but even you can't be in three different places at once." She leaned over and grabbed it out of his hands.

"Don't be silly, of course I won't be able to do that." She said a little frostily. "Now pass the marmalade."

"But-"

"Pass. The. Marmalade."

Mortlaíocht smelt the distinctive scent of Hagrid entering the Hall. For some reason, he was swinging a dead polecat in one hand. He paused briefly to talk with the three, excited about his first lesson. Mortlaíocht packed up his books. "I'd better get to Arithmancy. See you later." He got up from the table and headed for the doors. At the staff table, Dumbledore got up from his seat and walked towards him. He saw this and started walking quicker. He got to the door and pulled it open.

Or rather, tried to. Somehow, the door without a lock was locked. Dumbledore approached him and the door opened easily. "Hello, Mortlaíocht." He walked out quickly, but the elderly professor was able to keep up with him.

"I haven't killed and butchered the centaur tribe, if that's what you're asking." "Five points from Gryffindor." "They went up the winding stair cases, other students looking curious about the new pupil walking with the Headmaster. "I merely wanted to ask how Hogwarts has been." They reached the seventh floor and he turned left.

"It's fine. And I've fed, in case you're wondering." "On…?" "A wolf pup. It wasn't the best, but it'll do."

He reached the Arithmancy classroom and they stepped inside. Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher and a few other students were inside. Professor Vector stood up. "Professor Dumbledore. I didn't expect you to be joining the class today." Dumbledore bowed his head slightly. "Not at all, Septima. I was just escorting Mortlaíocht here to his first class of the day." Mortlaíocht could feel all eyes on him as he took a seat. He was positive Dumbledore was smiling to himself as he walked away.

**A/N: A rather abrupt ending, but I'm busy with schoolwork. Promise to update regularly. Remember, reviews sacrificed in my name can power up the writing process.**


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